


The Reluctant Rabbit and the Hormonal Teenager

by pixie_rings



Series: Let Love Grow [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Drunk!Jack is best Jack, M/M, Peach Liqueur, p0rn_fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since they got together, Jack’s been sort of desperate to end his three hundred-year virginity. Bunnymund, however, is taking it too slow for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reluctant Rabbit and the Hormonal Teenager

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lusty Loki'd](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lusty+Loki%27d).



> From a Facebook friend’s prompt for an Italian porn fest: “I’m a three hundred-year-old virgin!”

It had been three hundred years.

Three. Hundred. Years.

And Bunnymund _insisted_ on taking it slow.

Jack groaned, his head falling onto his arms as he sat in his favourite tree overlooking his lake. That was all he needed, now he finally had someone to vent three hundred years of frustration with. It seemed like forever since that chase, that tumble in the snow, those tentative kisses, even though it was, what, six months? A grain of sand in Bunnymund’s hourglass, but Jack had been human once, and he still had trouble letting go of old habits, including his perception of time. And six months was a very, _very_ long time, in Jack’s book, and a lot could happen in six months, after all. Seasons turned, holidays passed, teeth fell out and yetis worked, and still Jack was left with hormones and nothing but his hand, while Bunnymund continued to tease without even realising it. Surely the Pooka understood the effect having a permanently naked boyfriend wandering around would have on him?

Frustrating was the understatement of the _millennium_.

With another, much more unsatisfied groan, he flopped forward onto the branch and let his legs dangle. Surely there was some way he could get into Bunnymund’s figurative pants (or Bunnymund into his: even better and less abstract). He had to have a weakness, something that turned him on.

For a brief moment, Jack entertained the possibility that Bunnymund found their whole relationship to be nothing but platonic. Jack wasn’t a Pooka, and it would be strange for Bunnymund to find him attractive. Perhaps Bunnymund really wasn’t interested in him _that way_ , a human form was too alien… After all, Jack shouldn’t even like Bunnymund _that way_ , but Jack happen to find Bunny insanely good-looking. He’d already freaked out enough over that when he’d first felt these burgeoning feelings for the other Guardian, and he wasn’t about to dig up _that_ hatchet. Who wouldn’t find him attractive, anyway? All sleek muscle and power, soft, warm fur, gorgeous eyes and oh, _that voice_ … Jack shook his head, scolding himself with a slap to the cheek. Now was not the time to go gooey-eyed, no matter how hot Bunnymund was.

Sighing this time, he sat up again and kicked the air huffily. This wasn’t getting him anywhere, was it? Bunnymund would probably want him to be _mature_ and _responsible_ and talk it over with him. That went against nearly every fibre in Jack’s being (except the tiny Guardian part, which was always quickly tied up, gagged and thrown in the closet by all the rest). To be honest, when he’d been with Bunnymund lately, all he could think about was how strong Bunnymund’s arms would be, how they’d feel around him, those paws on his hips and that fur against his chest. Did Bunnymund bite during sex? Jack couldn’t imagine him as anything but hard and fast, able to hold him down with his superior strength and fuck him senseless. How big was he? All the fantasies he’d entertained had been rather generous with the Pooka’s… manhood? Rabbithood? Buckhood?, and he couldn’t exactly imagine him any other way.

Jack placed his head in his hands and groaned. There were some things a three-hundred-year-old virgin simply couldn’t take. Celibacy enforced by a worrywart boyfriend was one of them.

But he certainly wasn’t going to get any further with his predicament by simply moping in a tree, and Jack was nothing if not proactive.

Jumping easily into the Wind’s welcoming arms, he wandered for a short while until he came to the place Bunnymund had marked especially for Jack’s use, and Jack’s use only. A large, mossy boulder, carved with the strangest drawings that probably meant something but were lost on Jack, and a niche where the pendant that served as a Warren key slotted perfectly. Bunnymund had given the wooden carving to him a week into their relationship, a way to come and go as he pleased, as long as he didn’t cause mischief. Which he did, but Bunnymund had become rather good at forgiving him little transgressions. After his staff, it was the most precious thing he owned.

Jack slid the egg-shaped pendant into the opening until the carvings opened like a flower in bloom, and Jack headed inside. Down the rabbit hole, he thought with a grin.

The Warren was always temperate, always green, always peaceful, and Jack found the insistent throb of lust that always seemed to beat beneath his skin these days to have mellowed to a steady hum of soft desire, something more languorous and less desperate.

The effect was short-lived, however, once he found the very being he was looking for.

Bunny was cleaning out a small cave that appeared to be used for storage. Large jars and barrels were being crowded haphazardly outside, and all Jack could see was a broad, furry back and a tail that was far too cute to be decent. He bit his lip, stepping forward on silent feet, and tweaked that offending appendage.

Bunnymund jumped, whirling around with a fondly exasperated look on his face.

“Thought I could feel you coming,” he said.

“I wish,” Jack muttered, perhaps to himself, perhaps not, and Bunnymund coughed embarrassedly.

“’Snot the moment for that, ice block,” he said, deflecting the implication like a pro. Jack snorted. If it were up to him, it would always be the moment. Unfortunately, it wasn’t up to him, and he merely shoved a hand into the pocket of his hoodie, the other drumming its fingers on his staff, pouting.

“What are you up to?” he asked, tapping a barrel with the side of his foot and sort of hating himself for allowing Bunnymund to change the subject every time, even passively.

“Bit of spring cleaning,” Bunnymund replied, placing a case of ornate glass bottles full of some rich, amber liquid onto a barrel.

“In January?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t get much time in spring, do I?” Bunnymund replied, a little waspishly. He uncorked a bottle with a little difficulty and took a long sniff. “Should be ready.”

“What is it?” Jack asked, sincerely curious this time. He hopped up onto a barrel and accepted the bottle, taking a whiff himself. It made him gag. It was rich, thick and sickly sweet.

“Peach liqueur,” Bunnymund said proudly. “You’d be rotten after two glasses of this.”

Jack handed the bottle back, glad to be rid of it, and wondered how he could get back to the question that was niggling him. With what was obviously alcohol scattered hither and thither around them, he considered getting Bunnymund drunk and having his wicked way, but the flaw in that plan was that Jack was a total lightweight and Bunny could probably down three of those bottles without so much as a slur to show for it. He remembered the last time North talked him into vodka. The last thing he recalled before passing out on the table was Sandy floating upside down with a silly grin on his face, Tooth chasing after elves to get their teeth and Bunnymund and North engaging each other in a staring/shot contest.

He’d come to snuggled up to a snoring Bunny in one of North’s spare rooms with a headache that felt like he’d bashed his skull against ice repeatedly for five hours and a stomach like a stormy sea.

So that idea was out the window.

He watched Bunny take out a few more cases of bottles and a demijohn wound with straw rope, equal parts bored and horny, before the Pooka picked up a few bottles and placed them in a basket.

“What’re they for?”

“Tasting,” Bunnymund answered easily. Jack hopped down from his roost and followed the Pooka to his personal abode to sit at the kitchen table.

“Want some?” Bunnymund asked innocently, offering a glass. Jack gave him a look that plainly said he thought Bunnymund rather foolish indeed for entertaining such a ludicrous notion, to which Bunnymund replied with a shrug, and simply watched the rabbit place his glass on the table and uncork another bottle. This one was green, but still just as ornate, and probably hand-blown, Jack mused. The scent of apples and the fizz of bubbles filled the kitchen, and Jack had to admit that one didn’t seem quite as disgusting as the peach liqueur.

“Well… maybe I might have some.”

Bunnymund grinned, and Jack figured he was probably quite pleased he could share his brew with his boyfriend. He placed another glass in front of Jack and filled it halfway.

The cider was sweet, fizzy and absolutely delicious. The kickback, however, was powerful, and Jack shook his head viciously. Bunnymund sniggered.

“You think that’s heavy?” he asked, clearly entertained at Jack’s expense, which the winter sprite found outrageous and offensive. “Right little two pot screamer, ain’t we?”

Jack had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t matter. The mocking tone was more than enough. As if to prove a point, Jack courageously tipped the whole glass back in one go, something which wasn’t particularly wise. He coughed, shaking his head violently again, and slammed his glass down triumphantly. His cheeks were frosting slightly, as the warmth inside almost scalded him. In hindsight, the cider was probably deceptively strong.

“Slow down,” Bunnymund warned. “Or it’s gonna go straight to your head.”

Jack scoffed, taking the bottle and pouring himself some more. It wasn’t so bad once you got used to it. The fizziness counteracted the alcohol jolt, and made it much nicer and easier to go down. Soon Jack had downed more than half the bottle, to Bunnymund’s dismay, and had never felt better for it, even if there was double of everything. He was on his high horse, and wasn’t getting off it anytime soon.

“And another thing!”

Jack crawled onto the table, heedless of the bottles already there, and grabbed two fistfuls of the fur on Bunnymund’s shoulders. “Why don’t you want me?!” he demanded, pressing his nose against the Pooka’s. “I want you so damn much and you don’t want me back!”

Bunnymund swallowed.

“Because I want it to be special, ice block,” he said. “It’s your first time, I–”

“I don’t give an elf’s ass,” Jack hissed. “I want you to fuck me into this table like your life depends on it!”

With what seemed like enough effort to move a continent, Bunnymund pushed him away, eyes closed and breath slow, steadying himself.

“You don’t know what you want,” he said through gritted teeth.

“But I do want it!” he whined, oblivious to how childish he sounded. He straightened up, still kneeling on the table, too fast. The whole room spun like an Alabama farmhouse in a tornado, and so did his stomach. 

“And you’re also drunk, Jackie boy,” Bunnymund said, gently but firmly. Jack was about to protest, but thinking had become exceptionally painful, as had most functions connected to his brain – which were, in fact, all of them. The last thing his alcohol- and disappointment-hazed mind managed to register before passing out was being carried and laid gently on soft, sweet-smelling bedding, and a gentle paw caressing his hair. Then everything was sweet oblivion.

.

Getting drunk had gotten him nowhere (he should have known that he was never going to come close to knocking down the wall of Bunnymund’s stalwart honour while under the influence – not that he remembered anything that had happened after his third glass of home-brewed cider), and Bunnymund was clearly more than a little pissed with him. That wasn’t conducive to losing one’s virginity, so he decided to go burden one of his other fellow Guardians until Bunnymund had cooled off enough.

That hapless job fell to Toothiana.

Today was apparently inventory day at the Tooth Palace. Toothiana had a bright red quill in one hand, a heavy, purple leather-bound tome balanced on her other arm and a pair of tiny glasses somehow clinging for dear life on her remarkably straight nose. Her fairies were coming and going as duty called, except Baby Tooth. She was hovering around Jack, all a-flutter, and clearly laying down on the job, if the others’ jealous looks were anything to go by. The winter sprite himself was precariously perched on the crook of his staff, and was watching Toothiana check names, count teeth and do other, incredibly boring things. He was really only there for the company.

“Not that I’m complaining, or anything, but why choose here as your bolthole in a storm?” she asked eventually, beckoning four of her fairies. They came carrying a jade abacus with pearl beads, which Tooth began rapidly counting on. Jack shrugged, evasive in his embarrassment, and she rolled her eyes. “It’s Bunny, isn’t it.”

Not a question.

Jack groaned, his cheeks frosting vividly. “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear, most everything you two go on about is about the other!” she chirped simply. “I should have a bicuspid here, why do I have two premolars? Where’s the bicuspid? FIND THE BICUSPID!”

Yet more fairies saluted then darted off in search of the missing… bicuspid. Jack wasn’t even sure which tooth that actually was, and he was far too preoccupied with his own problems to worry about Benjawan Niratpattanasai’s misplaced pearly whites.

“Darn bicuspid,” Toothiana muttered, taking out the extra premolar and examining it. “And you? Who do you belong to? Oh, of course! Ciaran O’Connor!”

She fluttered up to a higher shelf and lovingly placed the tooth in its right and proper place, cooing over it like a maiden aunt over a baby niece. Once the umpteenth demonstration of Toothiana’s odontophilia had played itself out, Jack cleared his throat.

“So, um… you’ve known Bunny longer than I have.”

“True,” she admitted fluttered down and taking up her book again. The fairies she’d dumped it on sighed with relief and quickly fled. “But, well… why don’t we go and have some tea?”

Jack, who had opened his mouth to continue, closed it again. Tea… well, tea didn’t sound so bad to his still roiling stomach.

“Green, iced?” he asked hopefully. She nodded with an indulgent smile and led the way to what Jack supposed was her living room. He’d always like the Arabian Nights feel to the place, with the fluttery, sheer drapery and the cushions thrown across the floor, and the low, white wood table.

He sat, cross-legged, staff abandoned by his side, and patiently waited. It didn’t take long for Toothiana to return through a beaded curtain with a tray: a dainty china cup of steaming tea for herself (no sugar), and a tall glass for Jack, moisture dripping down the side.

“So,” she went on, arranging her train around her fastidiously as she sat, “I think I know what you want help with.”

Jack tried to shrink in on himself, and he was thoroughly glad he hadn’t chose to take a sip of his drink. He really was that obvious.

“I mean, it’s be natural to want to be all snugglekins with the person you love,” she twittered, eyes a little far off and dreamy. Jack made a face. ‘Snugglekins’ had to be the worst euphemism anyone had ever invented. _Ever_. In the history of the universe. He prayed she would never use that word in his presence ever again. “Unfortunately, none of us can help you with that.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Bunny’s the last of his kind, and all that we know about Pooka we learnt from him. Which obviously has nothing to do with mating rituals. It doesn’t exactly make for polite conversation, you understand.”

Yes, Jack did understand, very much indeed.

“So… if you really want to learn about that, you do need to talk to him.” She bit her lip. “None of us can help you.”

Jack groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah, I wasn’t really expecting any help. I just… haven’t you any clues?”

“Well, what’s going on exactly? What are you worried about?”

Jack lowered his eyes to his glass, gaze chasing the few remaining drops. What was he worried about? How could he explain it without looking like a fool?

“You see, Bunny…”

_He doesn’t want to have sex with me. Every time I try to initiate, he backs off, darts away, and I’m left chasing him. What if he doesn’t want me? What if we’re just too different? What if to him love and sex are two different things? What if…_

Toothiana’s eyes were full of concern, her hand on her feathery chest in worry. He shook his head.

“I dunno. Maybe we’re just incompatible.”

Toothiana snorted, which made him whip his head up with a confused frown.

“That’s not it,” she said mildly. “You know Bunny, he’s so all or nothing. He probably just wants it to be special or something. He’s a romantic at heart, really.”

Jack did not want to know how Toothiana knew that. He doused the flames of jealousy in his chest with a sip of his tea, and she giggled.

“Aw, don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere near your Bunny,” she said with a wink. Jack spluttered into his glass, and she giggled again. “But, really, it’s not because you’re different physically. It’s because he cares about you so much. That’s just Bunny.”

Jack couldn’t help but hide a vague grin.

.

Three days had passed since his little tête-à-tête with Toothiana. Three days he’d spent working instead of lounging in his tree, wallowing in his misery. It was good to work, getting his mind of his permanent state of “take me now!” while giving a quick dusting of snow to various parts of the world. He was particularly proud of the very unnatural snow he’d powdered Copenhagen with. Screwing with meteorologists’ heads was the best part of the job, sometimes, even more than all the children’s smiles.

But the best part had been when he’d been standing on a lamppost, surveying his good work, and a little girl, no older than seven, gaps in her teeth and hair tucked messily under a pink sparkly bobble hat, had pointed at him.

She’d pointed at _him_ , and cried out, _“Jokul Frosti!”_.

Oh, he’d never admit it to anyone, but he’d cried. One more believer, one more, _wonderful_ believer. He could feel her, deep inside, in his heart, a profound, beautiful warmth he’d carried with him all the way home. He was sure whatever he touched would melt instead of freeze.

Still on his new believer high, he dashed down into the Warren in search of the one he wanted to tell first. He found the Pooka in what looked like a vegetable garden, and once again the vastness and amount of things in the Warren never ceased to amaze him. He alighted on the fence, dipping into a crouch, and gave Bunnymund the widest grin he’d ever given anyone.

G’day,” Bunnymund said drolly, ceasing his weeding to offer a slightly puzzled smile in return. The boy looked ready to burst, so Bunnymund straightened. Bad idea.

Jack launched himself at the rabbit with a loud whoop, landing them in the cabbages as he snuggled into warm, grey fur.

“Guess what, guess what!” Jack demanded. Bunnymund huffed, leaning up on his elbows.

“You’ve frozen Bora Bora?” he asked. Jack snorted and sat up, still grinning like a loon.

“I have a new believer!” he crowed, throwing his staff up in the air and catching it in glee. Bunnymund laughed and offered his applause.

“Well done! So that brings your total up to…?”

Jack counted them on his fingers. “Eight. No, wait. Nine.” He’d forgotten Jaime’s five-year-old cousin had been quickly converted through making snow angels on a sunny day. “She’s my ninth believer!”

He sounded so proud that Bunnymund couldn’t help but smile indulgently and cup his cheek. “Another one of the ankle-biters’ mates?” he asked. Jack shook his head.

“Nope! A little girl from Denmark! She _pointed at me_ , Bunny. She pointed at me and called me Jokul Frosti!”

Giddy as a schoolboy, he burrowed back into Bunnymund’s chest, still laughing. He couldn’t help it. This was child an ocean away with no connection to Jaime or any other of the kids of Burgess. This was… this was huge, incredible, and suddenly Jack felt not only very big, but also very small. The world was immense, and there were millions of children out there. He sucked in a breath and blew it out again. He had his work cut out for him.

“This calls for a celebration, I think,” Bunnymund declared. Jack was drawn back to the present by that, and he looked up. His expression turned sly as a fox’s, and he ran his hands down Bunnymund’s sides with clear intent.

“Well, I can think of a way we can celebrate…” he said, voice husky and hopefully enticing. Bunnymund’s paws stuttered on his back, as if they weren’t quite sure what to do. The rabbit’s ears twitched, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Is that really all you can think about?” he asked. He sounded… desperate? But Jack couldn’t really tell. All he knew was that his frustration, both sexual and not, was bubbling up to the surface. Scowling, he backed off Bunnymund, getting to his feet. Bunnymund straightened up himself, watching Jack pick up and shoulder his staff with a frown.

“Ice block –”

“No! Don’t call me that!”

Bunnymund took a step back, surprised.

“You don’t want me, do you?” Jack murmured, the grip on his staff tightening. Bunnymund blinks, jaw dropping.

_“What?”_

The tone did nothing to appease him. It was too full of incredulity, as if Jack couldn’t possibly be that stupid. His eyebrows drew down, eyes like sharp icicles.

“It’s obvious!” he snapped. “If you wanted me you wouldn’t keep pushing me away all the time! I’m sick of it! I’m sick of _you_!”

With a wave of his staff he was away, carried on a gale towards the way out, leaving a rather windswept Bunnymund behind.

.

North knew what time of year it was. The best time of year.

This was the time of year Bunnymund brought out his reserves. Which meant a special visit had to be paid to his fellow Guardian. A completely selfless and disinterested visit, of course, which had nothing to do with peach liqueur whatsoever. So on went the coat, and the hat, and out came the portal.

“Do not be waiting up for me!” he called. The yetis merely huffed through their beards. The elves continued their merry destruction as if nothing had happened.

He landed squarely on his two feet, rubbing his hands together eagerly. He and Bunny would drink and exchange war stories (which was Manly Talk for gossip), and generally make merry. And North would go home pleasantly tipsy. It seemed, however, that that plan was not to come to fruition.

He threw open the wooden door of Bunnymund’s personal abode, arms spread and belly shaking with laughter.

“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas, Bunny!”

Bunnymund didn’t reply to the taunt at all, which was most uncharacteristic indeed. He frowned, stroking his beard, when he saw his old friend moping at the table, chin on his paw. He was gazing off into nothing, generally looking miserable.

“Greetings, Bunny!” North said, sitting down opposite the Pooka.

“’Lo,” Bunnymund mumbled. He couldn’t really get any less enthusiastic. North’s frown deepened, and he removed his coat and hat. No peach liqueur for him, then. Damn.

“Something wrong with Jack?”

That got a reaction. Bunnymund eyed him in confusion. North chuckled.

“When is not about you and Jack?” he asked lightly. Bunnymund cringed. “Come, come, tell me about it!” the Guardian of Wonder practically ordered, waving a demanding hand.

“He thinks I don’t want him,” Bunnymund groaned. “Ran off, all huffy.”

North sighed. “Is normal. He is proud, you are proud. He is free spirit, confident, you are overprotective smotherer. You are always butting heads like reindeer in mating season.”

Bunnymund glared at him. North graciously ignored him and continued.

“But you are always coming back to one another, because love is stronger than worrier rabbit and prideful boy. Love is stubborn.”

“I guess I just wanted to give him the chance to back out while he could,” Bunnymund murmured. North’s snort could have put a bull to shame.

“Jack is more stubborn than mule with one-track mind. The more you are pushing him away, the more he is wanting it. The more he is wanting _you_. He wants this, Bunny, he wants you. What is problem?”

“Look at me, North!” Bunnymund snapped, waving a paw at himself. “I’m nothing like him! I’m a completely different bloody species!”

“And yet you are wanting to be with him, yes?”

Bunnymund remained silent, bucked teeth chewing his bottom lip. Of course he wanted him. It had been years, more than he could even count, since he’d felt such a profound need for another creature. Whenever Jack laughed, whenever his eyes twinkled with mischief, whenever he smiled, said his name, rolled his eyes. When they bickered, when they held each other, when Jack kissed him and he nuzzled back.

“Well then, why do you fight it? If it feels right, then it is right. There is no room for being silly in love. We dance, we kiss, we schmooze, we carry on, we go home happy!”

Bunnymund raised an incredulous eyebrow. North chuckled.

“What I am meaning is that Jack feels ready. And you feel ready. If you are both feeling ready, then time is right. These things, they come naturally. They fall into place when they must. Logistics are to be figured out along way.”

Bunnymund made a face. North actually thinking about such logistics was not a thought he wished to entertain.

“You must talk to Jack,” North continued, seemingly pleased with his advice. He was stroking his beard, acting every bit the wise old man. Bunnymund scoffed slightly.

“I know.”

There was a moment of silence as Bunnymund lost himself in thought, and North clapped his hands harshly, like thunder in the kitchen.

“What are you still doing here? Go, go!”

Bunnymund jumped up, allowing North to steer him to the door and out into the Warren.

“True love is waiting!” North called pleasantly, closing the door behind the Pooka and rubbing his hands. Now, where was that peach liqueur…?

He jumped when the door burst open again.

“Paws off the liqueur!” Bunnymund snarled, before disappearing again, this time down one of his tunnels. North gave the cabinet with the solitary bottle a wistful look before sighing. Some king of thieves indeed.

.

Jack was sulking. That was, of course, nothing new, but the firing ice shards at the cliff face in front of his current perch was a novelty. He should have known Bunnymund wouldn’t want him. They were too different, despite the silly daydreams he’d conjured up about love conquering all, even insurmountable biological differences. Because Jack didn’t care, he didn’t care that Bunnymund was a six-foot-something bipedal rabbit. He still found him handsome, still found him attractive.

Clearly that wasn’t reciprocated, he thought bitterly, waving his staff. A fresh batch of frozen projectiles hit the rock and shattered with a crash.

“Moody much, Jackie boy?”

Jack glowered down. There he was, at the foot of the tree, looking up with a smirk. He wasn’t going to bestow such a foolish question with an answer. It didn’t deserve one.

“Aw, come on, ice block. Come down, we need to talk!”

Jack snorted. Like he was going anywhere near him, not now, not ever. He yelped when the tree shook and the Wind barely caught him before he hit the ground. To his irritation, he was deposited in strong, furry arms rather than on the ground. Traitor.

“Ta,” Bunnymund said with a nod, and set the boy on his feet. Jack folded his arms, refusing to look at the Pooka in front of him. “Don’t be like that,” Bunnymund murmured, placing a paw on Jack’s cool cheek. He could have kicked himself when he found himself pressing into the touch hungrily. He’d missed it, so much.

“How should I be?” he asked cantankerously.

“We’re going to talk,” said Bunnymund, wisely ignoring waspish teenage comebacks. “Seriously. About this… sex thing. Because despite what you’ve been telling yourself, I do want it. I do want you. More than you can imagine.”

Jack wished he didn’t flush frost. Hell, he wished he didn’t flush, _period_. Or that it was at least a voluntary action, because he couldn’t help the slow creep of frost across his cheeks.

He found himself atop a grassy hill in the Warren, although he wasn’t sure how he got there. It didn’t really matter. He took a seat next to Bunnymund as a warm breeze brushed lazily by, making the longer grass below them shimmer like silk be unfurled. He took a deep breath of perennial Spring, and chanced a look at the Pooka beside him.

“So… we were supposed to be talking?” he asked, doubtful simply to maintain some sort of appearance. In reality, his insides were churning, bubbling like boiling water, and he was nervous to his very core.

“We are,” said Bunnymund. “You should learn to give people a chance to explain themselves, you know.”

Jack scowled. The last thing he wanted right now was to be told off, talked down to like a naughty child. As if he sensed it, he ran a paw through Jack’s hair, down to cup his face, warm, rough pads against a smooth cheek.

“The reason I spent so long before… before this is because, well…” He sighed. “We’re different species. You’re human – well, what was once human – and I’m a Pooka. I don’t even come from the same planet. And you, well… you’re a hormonal little bugger.”

Jack chuckled despite himself, placing a hand on Bunnymund’s paw. That much was very, very true. Sometimes… ok, more than sometimes, in fact, pretty often, he could barely keep his head screwed on when it came to Bunnymund. He’d been frightfully blind in all his self-centred forcefulness. In his desperate need, he’d never even considered that Bunnymund might have his own doubts too. All he’d thought about was himself, and well, that wasn’t what relationships were about, was it?

Yeah, he’d been pretty dumb.

The realisation made his insides squirm again, this time under the hot-cold rain of guilt. He lowered his gaze, ashamed, but Bunnymund pressed his cold, wet nose to his forehead in comfort.

“Don’t worry. It’s more than natural. And flattering, really.”

“You think that?” Jack felt as if his cheeks were about to freeze off.

“Bloody oath,” Bunnymund replied with a grin. “But the problem is… I wanted to give you time to back out. If this were some fair weather thing, I wanted to give you time to come to your senses, before you might do something you regretted.”

Ok, Jack hadn’t expected that. He glared so sharply that Bunnymund actually recoiled. A small part of him crowed in triumph, but most of him was outraged. He gave Bunnymund a hard punch to the shoulder and placed his hands on either side of the Pooka’s face.

“I could never, ever regret having sex with you. Ever,” he added, for emphasis. Emphasis was good. “I want you. I love you. All those wonderful, sappy things that make everything worth it.” He pressed their foreheads together, gazing straight into those eyes, emerald green, deep with eons of age. It was sort of an awkward position, but it didn’t really matter. “So what if we aren’t exactly made to fit? We’ll figure it out, right? As we go along. We both want it, that’s what’s important. And quit treating me like a kid. I may hang out with them, but so do you. I can make my own decisions, and I’ve made them. I made them a long time ago, Bunny.”

Bunnymund sighed, circling Jack’s wrists with his paws, touch gentle. “I know.”

“You shouldn’t worry about the different species thing. I got over that a long time ago, too.”

“That right?”

Jack hummed his confirmation, pulling away from Bunnymund, his hands stroking down to the Pooka’s shoulders, combing through thick, velvety fur. God, he loved it. He pressed his lips to Bunnymund’s mouth.

“Oh, yeah. You know, I might have a fur fetish.” He reached up and scratched where chin met throat, enjoying the throaty rumble he got from that.

“That’s something I never expected to hear,” Bunnymund muttered, sliding his paws around Jack’s waist.

“’M full of surprises,” Jack mumbled, pressing into another kiss.

To be honest, Jack had never really thought about the details too much before. His brain didn’t want to entertain problems like that, not when he really, really wanted to come, touching himself to thoughts of Bunnymund fucking him long and hard. They’d crossed the kissing hurdle pretty quickly, though, despite the fact that Bunnymund had told him it wasn’t a part of Pooka culture at all. Bunnymund could do it, physically, but he wasn’t really made for it. And his teeth tended to get in the way, sometimes, if they didn’t angle it right… It was hit and miss, really. They’d always gone more for chinning and nuzzling in general, chinning being the more intimate of the two, and that the time Bunnymund had kissed him in the snow drift had been entirely for Jack’s benefit.

“Because I’ll be buggered if oblivious you would get it through nuzzling,” Bunnymund had muttered, earning himself a snowball to the face.

However, he didn’t seem to have a problem with kissing when Jack wanted, and Jack did want, very much (even if he occasionally ended up spitting out fur). The nuzzling was wonderful, though. Jack liked having Bunnymund’s face rubbing against his own, all warm fur, twitchy whiskers and wet nose. The chinning, well, that was still a little weird, but from what Bunnymund had told him, it was all to do with scent. The idea that Bunnymund had scent-marked him as his own was actually an incredible turn on. Possessive Bunny was _hot_.

Body-wise… perhaps they were a bit more compatible. Mammals were mammals, after all, even if they did come from beyond the stars. The thought of having Bunnymund’s fur against his naked skin was something that turned him on so much it almost hurt. The paws… those were a different matter. There was no way they were going anywhere near anywhere important, but Jack had been researching while the Bennett household slept, borrowing Jaime’s father’s computer and their Wi-Fi, just for a second (he sincerely hoped Mrs Bennett didn’t check up on her husband’s internet history, because otherwise there would be a lot of explaining to do about certain sites…). And he could deal with the preparation part himself. He’d given it a try. It had been weird at first, but he’d gradually relaxed into it, even finding it pleasant. He hadn’t yet found what the site labelled prostate, but that didn’t matter.

Jack wondered why he was thinking all this right now, of all times. Perhaps it was better that he mentally went through the motions before they went any further down the slippery slope, before his brain short-circuited and all thought was thrown unceremoniously out the window. He was already halfway to that state, if his gasps were anything to go by. Bunnymund had his hoodie rucked up and was nipping across his pale chest - he seemed to be into biting, and Jack didn’t mind at all – and Jack added that to his list of things that turned him on. Bunnymund’s paws slid beneath the waistband of his pants, but Jack’s hands on his wrists stilled him.

“W-wait,” he gasped, arching off the ground and stripping off, sitting up enough to tug his hoodie and throw it randomly to the side. For a moment he was self-conscious, already hard and short-breathed. Bunnymund, however, gave him an appreciative look, and didn’t that just make Jack’s day? What he wouldn’t give to be looked at like that all the time.

“Like what you see?” he teased. Bunnymund pressed his face to Jack’s stomach, breathing in, whiskers twitching.

“You know I do,” he murmured, planting furry kisses wherever he could. “You should be naked more often.”

Jack laughed, stroking along Bunnymund’s downy ears. “I’m lucky, you always are.”

It was Bunnymund’s turn to laugh, a low, throaty chuckle that sent delicious shivers up Jack’s spine. He groaned when a paw wrapped around his erection, circling slowly.

“So… how d’you wanna go about this?” he asked, far too calm for Jack’s liking. He was slowly unravelling like an unhemmed sleeve, and Bunnymund was cool as anything. Turned tables indeed.

“I…” Jack swallowed. “Got anything to…” He made a vague gesture to down below, embarrassed. Bunnymund sighed, and pulled a small glass bottle from his bandolier.

“Figured you’d be unprepared,” he said, smirking. Jack got to his knees, gave Bunnymund a long kiss and took the bottle eagerly.

Ok, he could do this. No need to be embarrassed, after all, first times were weird for everybody… It took him two tries to get the bottle open, he poured too much over his slightly trembling fingers, and he was just ruining everything, wasn’t he? Bunnymund ran a soothing paw down his back, shushing him with a brief nuzzle that turned into a kiss.

“Relax, Jackie,” he murmured. Jack hummed into the kiss, finding the courage to reach behind himself and slowly insert a finger. It stung somewhat, but he persisted, probing deeper, breathing slowly through his nose. Bunnymund’s teeth on his shoulder offered a welcome distraction, as did the paws now on his ass. His other hand gripped the fur on Bunnymund’s chest, and slowly began to lose himself to the feeling. He added another finger, panting now, heat spreading through him even as the breaths he let out were cold.

“Hm… that’s right…” Bunnymund muttered, nipping at his ear as Jack shuddered against him, letting out the smallest of whimpers. His eyes flickered open, focused and… and took a deep breath.

He was going to need more fingers, if _that_ was anything to go by. Tentatively he ran a finger along Bunnymund’s cock, making the Pooka gasp harshly. It was slicker than he imagined, and oh, his imagination had come close, but not close enough in the size department… He licked his lips and added another finger with a moan, scissoring, stretching himself as best he could. The idea of having Bunnymund in him was, God, it made his head spin. His hand tightened around the Pooka’s erection even as he drove his fingers deeper. Bunnymund’s hips began to thrust, shallow, but Jack could feel the latent power in those muscles, and the groan that accompanied it made him laugh breathlessly. To be the one to get that out of Bunny was extremely satisfying.

“Ready, yet?” Bunnymund demanded, paws tightening on Jack’s behind, hips stuttering. He sounded as if he was barely holding back. Jack nodded, taking his sweet time in removing his fingers even though he was more than hungry for it. “Finally!”

Letting out a very unlagomorphic growl, Bunnymund pressed him down to the grass, paws returning to his thighs and spreading him, raising him up until his only anchor to the ground was his shoulders. Jack yelped, which Bunnymund answered with a hoarse chuckle, and slowly drove his way home. Jack scrambled for purchase anywhere, finding only soft, easily torn grass to moor him. He hadn’t been prepared for this, nothing in the world could have prepared him for this: the feeling of being filled, stretched beyond anything his fingers could do, torturously slow.

Bunnymund didn’t stop until he was as far he could go, fur pressed against the sensitive skin of Jack’s ass, nose quivering. Jack gasped for breath, unable to think of anything but Bunnymund, inside him, deep as he could be, almost too much.

And then he moved.

At first Jack’s body seemed to sag in relief, thankful for the respite from intrusion, but then Bunnymund thrust back in, deep as before, and all Jack could do was dig in fingers into the earth as he moaned, shock and pleasure mingling into one within him.

“Can’t hold back, Jackie,” Bunnymund grunted, breath burning against the flush of frost on Jack’s chest. Jack moaned again, opening his eyes.

“Then fuck me,” he demanded, rolling his hips, which made Bunnymund groan. “Fuck me _hard_.”

Bunnymund really didn’t need telling twice. It was sudden, powerful and rough, and Bunnymund easily found a rhythm he kept to like clockwork. Hard, fast, pounding moan after moan from Jack’s lips. He reached for the Pooka, anything to hold onto as he felt torn apart by it, and Bunnymund accepted it, raking his teeth down Jack’s chest as fingers dug into his fur, tugging just enough to add a frisson of pleasant pain. As long as he didn’t pull the ears, it was fine.

Jack’s whole world, his entire consciousness, shrank to them, and only them. The rest of reality ceased to exist, and there were only he and Bunnymund, joined together, and the pleasure driving him mad. Bunnymund’s hips were like pistons, and his pace never faltered once, hammering into Jack as if it was the only thing he’d ever needed. He barely made a sound, only shallow gasps and the occasional grunt, but Jack more than made up for it. Sex made him noisy, it seemed, letting out a plethora of moans, gasps and groans that only made Bunny drive into him harder. He writhed, head thrown back while his finger dug into the thick fur at Bunnymund’s back. He’d never wanted anything more than this in his entire life. The feeling of being pounded into, filled over and over… It really was too much. Something in him was being tightened, tightened to snapping point, and he strove towards it, needing it so much he thought he would fall apart, reaching for it with open arms.

“Ah, B-Bunny…!” he cried out, back turning to a rigid arc as he came, harder than he ever had, white behind his eyelids and a guttural cry leaving his mouth. Aftershock rippled through him, but Bunnymund left no room to come down. His hips slowed, but didn’t stop, and he smirked.

“Not tired already, Jackie boy?” he enquired, teasing. “Because I’ve got at least two more rounds to go.”

Jack opened his eyes, and his expression could be accurately described as a perfect cross between ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ and ‘fuck me senseless _right now_ ’.

Bunnymund leaned forward, nuzzling at Jack’s neck, one paw still tight on his thigh as the other slid under the small of his back.

“Good onya,” he rasped, making Jack shiver.

Two more rounds later – Bunnymund was true to his word – and all Jack could do was pant, not even enough strength in him to moan anymore. His arms were thrown over his head in boneless disarray, wrung out like a wet cloth. His chest heaved, eyes half-closed and mouth half-open around wet, cold breath and the occasional, sore-throated whine. He’d given up after his third orgasm – or was it his fourth? – and now he was hypersensitive almost to the point of pain.

And finally it seemed Bunnymund had reached his closing peak. His shoulders were stiff, his head bent, his paws trembling on Jack’s thighs, and finally his pounding hips jerked to a halt, so deep inside Jack couldn’t help one last cry. Bunnymund groaned, guttural, primal and deep as he emptied himself, hot and slick, and even after being stripped to nothing but quivering nerves, Jack’s cock still found it in it to twitch with half-hearted interest. The joys of teenage hormones.

Bunnymund pressed his face under Jack’s chin, panting heavily, breath hot, and Jack just about managed to find the strength to raise a hand and scratch behind a sensitive ear. Bunnymund hummed, pressing up into it.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“’Bout what?” Jack asked, slurring. He winced when Bunnymund pulled out. That sensation wasn’t very pleasant at all.

“For tiring you out like this.” The Pooka heaved himself up, gaze serious. Jack gave him as incredulous a look as he could muster when all his muscles felt like jelly due to sheer satisfied exhaustion. Bunnymund clearly though he must elaborate.

“I’m not usually so, er… _enthusiastic_. Or longwinded.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“I wanted you so much,” Bunnymund added, pressing his now-warm nose to Jack’s. Jack took in a shuddering breath, his heart feeling like it would burst as his cheeks frosted like a winter’s morning. He raised his other arm and pressed Bunnymund to him, angling his face just right for a kiss.

“So… how many rounds can you usually go?” Jack asked curiously.

“Two’s about my average,” the rabbit replied, settling himself better, ignoring the stickiness of his belly fur. Jack hummed.

“I can work with that,” he said, grinning lopsidedly. His fingers found Bunnymund’s ear again, and returned to their favourite pastime of scratching behind it. Bunnymund hummed happily, a low, profound rumble that ran through the both of them like thunder in the distance.

“Happy you’re not a virgin anymore?” he mumbled. Jack chuckled.

“Oh, yeah. I don’t feel any different, but…” He wasn’t sure he could put it into words, really.

“Doesn’t feel any different, really,” Bunnymund said. “S’all in your head.”

Jack couldn’t really answer that, so he merely stayed silent for once, and kept up his scratching behind the Pooka’s ear. The silence continued, long, pleasant and drowsy.

“Getting a little heavy, Cottontail,” Jack said. Bunnymund raised himself up onto his hackles, stretching. He scowled down at the dried semen matting the fur on his belly, and Jack suddenly felt several degrees colder. All that fur really was warm. He also felt extremely exposed, and quickly reached for his clothes. That was when he felt the ache in his lower back.

“Ow,” he groaned, rubbing at the small of his back as he stood, grimacing. Ok, he hadn’t known about that part.

“Sorry, ice block,” Bunnymund said. Jack just pulled on his hoodie, careful to not stretch himself too much.

“It’s worth it,” he said, grinning as he picked up his staff. He happily wrapped his arms around Bunnymund’s waist as he was gently pulled into a hug. He sighed as Bunnymund rubbed his chin over Jack’s hair, huffing. The only reply to that was a laugh as Jack pulled the Pooka down for a kiss.

“More than worth it.”


End file.
